


Blindsided

by Lisgreomg



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Disabled Character, M/M, Marriage, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:43:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lisgreomg/pseuds/Lisgreomg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Good Day to Die Hard John Jack and Lucy head back to John's place. There's some news that John never got around to telling Jack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've got Matt in a wheelchair in this story because of how his knee got shot out in Live Free. For whatever reason in my head his leg never healed right. This has the added benefit of explaining why he's not hanging out with McClane in subsequent movies.

Lucy spends the entire car ride back to John’s house telling Jack about every detail of her life that’s happened in the last three years. She asks him questions too, in such a way that it barely occurs to him that he probably shouldn’t be telling her this shit until they’re turning off the turnpike.

He has to laugh when he realizes she just somehow got the entire story about Belize out of him without him even realizing, slings an arm around her shoulders and dragging her in to kiss the top of her head, “Thank fucking Christ they don’t have one of you on the wrong side.”

She smirks up at him, “There’s only one of me anywhere. For the good of reality.”

He laughs again, and realizes that John’s watching them in the rearview mirror, a fond look in his eyes. He looks back, meeting his gaze as Lucy starts up again, with a story about how John was apparently stalking her at Rutgers and threw her boyfriend out of the car.

John rolls his eyes, “Yeah well, I was right about that jerkoff wasn’t I?”

Lucy snorts her opinion of that, and then adopts a playfully sly tone that Jack remembers from when she used to mock him about his girlfriends in high school, “True. True. And then my _next_ boyfriend – well that’s a great story-“

This is apparently some kind of inside joke that Jack isn’t familiar with, because John doesn’t hesitate to grab the nearest thing to hand – a pencil – and whip it with deadly McClane accuracy at Lucy’s head. Lucy’s laughing so hard she’s probably going to get the hiccups, just like she used to, and Jack can’t help but smile along, even though he doesn’t understand the joke.

They pull into a driveway before Lucy can pull herself together. Jack hasn’t really been tracking where they were going. John said they’d head to his place so he hadn’t worried. He looks around now as John parks the car and flicks off the engine. It’s not quite suburbia, not quite the city, a nice two story little bungalow tucked in-between two brick buildings. It’s not quite where he would have pictured John living, it’s less of a bachelor pad and more of an actual home. Lucy and John hop out, and Jack follows, still looking around, can’t help but comment, “This is not where I would have pictured you John.”

Lucy laughs again, Jack is starting to suspect she’s a little giddy about them both coming home safe, “Matt made him.”

John rolls his eyes and Jack wants to ask who Matt is, but they’re already trooping through the unlocked front door. Straight ahead of them is a staircase with one of those wheelchair track thingys for old people, to the right is a living room, where John and Lucy go to drop the bags. Jack trails after, feeling out of place again. The house is surprisingly bright and actually, somehow, decorated. Or at least more so than Jack would have ever pictured in a million years. Lucy heads straight back through another door, shouting back, “I’m getting us all beers. Fuck you if you want anything else.”

John collapses on the couch with a groan, looking over at him, “Pop a squat kid. What’re you standing around for?” Jack does as asked, taking an armchair instead of the open spot next to John and John shouts out, “Yo Hackboy. You dead up there?”

There’s a crash and then a thud from upstairs. Jack feels himself tense, and flinch towards his empty hip. But John just snorts. After a moment a voice shouts back down, “What the fuck? How did you guys get home so fast? The message boards are flipping a shit about two Americans exploding half of Moscow and Chernobyl. Are you going to grow another arm?”

A roommate. Apparently his father has a roommate. He rolls that idea around in his head a bit. John lets his head fall back on the couch, and Jack realizes that that fond smile is back and fonder than ever, “Apparently I’m just going to lose my hair.” There’s a loud shout of laughter, and Jack can’t stop himself from smiling a little at the look on John’s face. “Would you come the fuck down here? I want you to meet my kid.”

There’s a hum of an engine, and then the voice again, closer now, “On my way. Hold your horses.”

Lucy comes back in from the kitchen then, a tray with three beers and a large glass of ice water as well as what looks like a plate of nachos and a bowl of popcorn. Jack is reminded strongly of his mother, and misses her suddenly, fiercely. She’s smirking a little at the wall, like there’s a great joke in the making and she’s waiting for the punch line. She used to wear the same look right before the bucket of water would fall on his head, and he finds himself looking up almost instinctively.

The motor sound cuts out and a man wheels himself into the room. He’s a little older than Jack, thin, with long brunette hair. He’s wearing a pair of jeans and a ‘Han shot first’ shirt that looks pretty old. He moves his wheelchair with the grace of long familiarity, stopping right in the open spot between John’s couch and Jack’s chair. Basically he’s the exact opposite of what Jack would have pictured John’s roommate to be.

The man looks Jack up and down and says, “Jesus Christ. Are all McClanes built like brick shithouses? Is that a thing? Is there a brick shithouse gene?”

”Are you hitting on my kid right now? Is this five years ago all over again?” John asks, sounding supremely unconcerned. Lucy snorts, giggling a little.

The man rolls his eyes at John, “Anyway. Your phone went dead. You know how that’s a rule. No killing your phone. How the fuck am I supposed to schedule you an evac if you don’t have your phone? This is basic shit McClane.”

John seems to ignore that, finally lifting his head a bit, “Jack. This is Matt. He’s always like this. It grows on you. Like a fungus.”

Matt turns to him, blushes a little, reaches out his hand for a firm shake, “Yes. Right. Sorry. I just get” he makes a rapid gesture around his head, “you know. Anyway. Great to meet you. You can call me Matt. Since like, I’m only six years older than you or something and it would be weird for you to call me Pop. Though you’d be welcome to call me Pop if you want. I don’t know. I just call my stepdad Ray. Lucy calls me petnames like ‘Geek’ and ‘Loser’ but those all come from the fact that she wasn’t hugged enough as a child. But I guess you probably weren’t either. I guess that’s why you became McClane: Super Spy.”

It’s almost an overwhelming rush of words, though one point sticks out quite clearly, “Stepdad?”

Lucy collapses into laughter again, and Jack gets the sinking feeling that he didn’t actually hear that wrong. Holy fucking shit.

Matt groans, “Jesus Christ McClane. You didn’t tell him you got remarried? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

John actually looks kind of embarrassed. Jack doesn’t want to know what his face looks like right now. “We were kind of busy liberating Russia and saving the world from nuclear war. Not really a good time for the by the way I got married to some hippie guy that’s six years older than you bombshell.”

Matt rolls his eyes, “Yeah. Leaving me to do it is so much less awkward.” He turns back to look at Jack, “You probably have a million questions.”

Lucy’s still laughing so hard she’s probably at risk of hypoxia, John looks terminally embarrassed, Matt – his fucking stepdad what the fuck – looks vaguely apologetic.

For the life of him, Jack can’t think of a single fucking question.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this was going to be a one shot, but, surprising no one, Matt had more to say.

Jack can’t summon up any questions for a while, and defaults to his training, leaning back in his chair and just observing. He gets a couple looks thrown his way, Lucy still grinning evilly, and Matt – still his fucking stepdad what the fuck – looks slightly concerned. John and Matt are soon sniping back and forth at each other though, mildly and filled with easy affection that Jack can’t quite wrap his head around. They order pizza almost immediately, once John gripes about the fucking Russian food and Matt snipes back that he probably didn’t even eat anything over there since he was so busy blowing shit up and all, and what Lucy calls the John and Matt show continues over a steaming pie loaded down with everything.

“Did you come out of your hole at all while I was gone?” John asks, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, and then putting them down again with an eyeroll when Matt groans in protest.

”Pshh.” Matt says, “Bowman called when the courthouse exploded. Screaming my ear off. ‘You know what happens when McClane does things!’” Matt waves his hands around energetically, a piece of pizza flopping around in one hand, a mushroom falls to the carpet, “’You’re the responsible one in that little clusterfuck! You’re supposed to stop him from doing things!’” Matt chomps down on his pizza, looking supremely unconcerned, “And then I said I would have gone with you except for the leg you know, because it’s your kid, so what the fuck are you supposed to do, let the Russians put him in front of a shooting squad without so much as a goodbye? And then he swore a lot – even for me, and I live with you so you know I know from a lot of swearing – before hanging up on me. That’s roughly when the CIA safe house blew up and your phone went dark, and I was just getting all excited about inheriting your vinyl when I caught you on some traffic cameras.” Matt takes another piece of pizza from the box and Jack realizes, slightly amazed, that he’s managed to give that entire speech while eating.

John’s smirking lazily, feet crossed at the ankle, “You’ll never get my vinyl. You can’t appreciate it.”

”Damm right I don’t appreciate it. Fucking million pounds of useless plastic clogging up the basement. I could install a fucking swimming pool down there. Swimming pools are at least fucking useful McClane.”

”You with your MG6s and digital shit. It sounds better on vinyl and you know it.”

Matt’s hands shoot up and more mushrooms and some onions fall to the ground this time as he waves his hands around like he’s been electrocuted, “We don’t even have a turntable!!!”

John’s smiling viciously as he finishes off his pizza, “It’s on my list.”

Matt subsides into mild glaring at John. And then the two of them are just making faces at each other as Jack watches in amazement and Lucy fucks with her phone.

John startles Jack with a rich rumble of laughter after a moment, and he shoves himself up out of the couch, bending down to Matt, kissing him easy and casual, “Fuck I kinda love you hackboy. I’m going to hit the head.” So saying John slouches off, back towards the kitchen.

Matt looks smirkingly pleased with himself as he reaches for another piece of pizza, snatching John’s abandoned water as well. Jack blinks at the wall, feeling like he’s fallen into some kind of twilight zone. Lucy kicks him sharply, suddenly, almost knocking him out of his chair as she stands, grabbing the empty pizza box and empty beer bottles, “Come on assface, pick up after yourself.” Matt opens his mouth, and Lucy kicks the wheel of his chair, “Not you assface. And yes, I’ll grab you a red bull. Come on Jack.”

Jack stands, grabs the empty nacho plate and the bowl that is now only popcorn kernels, follows Lucy into the kitchen. He puts the dishes on the counter, and collapses immediately into a chair. “Jesus fuck” he says, with feeling.

Lucy pats him on the head, she sounds amused still, but more understanding this time, “Dude I know.” She lets him freak out for a minute before she says, “If it helps I found out when I walked in on them fucking so…”

”Oh my God I hate you so fucking much. I’m going back to Russia.” He bangs his head against the table, trying to get that image out of his head.

Lucy cackles like the evil harpy she is, “Shut up, no you’re not. I know it’s fucking bizarre as shit, but seriously, once you spend some time with them it makes a disturbing amount of sense. Matt refuses to take any of John’s shit, like at all, ever. It’s kinda great.”

”John got married. To some hacker kid apparently. A hacker _guy_ because apparently John is gay now.”

Lucy snorts a little, “Don’t start with the label shit, Matt will chew your ear off.”

”You mean that wasn’t what he was doing already?”

”Ha. No way, that’s just regular Matt. Soapbox Matt is like, a million times worse. Anyway. I know you were planning on staying here with John, but if Matt’s too weird for you, I have an empty couch.”

Jack considers that for a moment, before shaking his head. “Nah. Thanks though. I’ll think about it for sure if things get too strange over here. I’ll stick it out for a while first.”

She shrugs at him, starts washing the dishes and putting them in the dishwasher or on the drying rack, obviously comfortable in this kitchen. “So, come on, ask me the questions you couldn’t get out before.”

There’s really only one question that matters, “How’d it happen?”

She laughs a little, and for the first time, sounds less amused, “Well. You know the whole thing in 2007?”

He raises his eyebrows, “7-4-7? The fire sale? Wait. John was involved in that shit show?”

Lucy chews on her bottom lip, “We all were. All three of us. We had to keep it quiet of course, the whole thing. John, you know, was just running through the eastern seaboard, blowing shit up, and Matt was pulled along with him, and the fuckface bad guy snatched me out of an elevator to get under John’s skin. Anyway, Matt saved my life, and somehow bonded with John. Or John bonded with him, who can tell. They mutually bonded I guess. Anyway, Matt’s apartment got blown to hell during the shitshow, and after John got out of the hospital – he shot himself in the shoulder, I’m not even kidding – he basically moved Matt in with him. Matt got shot in the knee, and there was a complication in the surgery, the bone got infected or something, whatever, whatever. He could walk with a cane, but he’s terribly uncoordinated, the chair is better all the way around. Anyway, for like, two months after they moved in together they basically hid out. Like hermits. And then I was sick of John’s bullshit ducking my calls, so I broke in.” She waves her hand, and Jack makes a face at the idea of what she walked in on, “I was pretty bummed out. Not the least because Matt and I had totally been flirting while being held captive. And it was quite a bit of a shock of course.” She shrugs one shouldered, places the last dish in the dishwasher.

”Where the fuck did you guys go?” Comes John’s voice from the living room. Jack makes a face, but Lucy doesn’t hesitate to shout back.

”We’re gossiping about your twink, hold your fucking horses!”

Matt’s laughter is loud enough to almost cover John’s grumble of a response. Jack has to laugh. His fucking family man.


End file.
